


All's Well That Ends Well

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Category: White Collar
Genre: Caring Peter Burke, Desperation, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e08 Ancient History, Friendship, Heartfelt Conversations, Redirects, Sad Neal Caffrey, Secrets, Slick Neal Caffrey, Urination, Wetting, evasive manoeuvres
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Summary: Sometimes, Neal wasnota technological virtuoso. Sometimes he was just very very very stupid.
Relationships: Neal Caffrey & Clinton Jones, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Kudos: 12
Collections: WC²





	1. Too Late

Neal’s vendetta against the NYPD was not going away anytime soon. Certainly not after he was slammed against one of their vehicles, despite clearly not resisting. All they had to do was ask nicely for him to step inside. But _no_. First, they had to roughhouse him a little bit. The worst part was that it squeezed sensitive areas, like his groin and lower abdomen. Now, they had taken a lot in the past thanks to Adler, in this regard; but this was unanticipated, and quite uncomfortable. Not the least of all because his lower abdomen was not exactly a vacuum. His bladder, for instance, was not particularly happy to be awoken in this manner after more than 3 hours of thoroughly content slumber.

And of course, the cuffs were icing on the crappiness cake.

He made sure to ask for Peter; he had learned long ago that no one would believe he worked for the FBI without him showing a ‘badge’. And explaining the kind of consultant he was would only breed further discredit of his true investigative abilities. Burke could wave _his_ badge around and fix everything. It was a skill he had always appreciated. _Especially_ right now.

Putting his thighs together made him want to wriggle, and he could not allow himself that luxury...not when his wedgie-handling hands were restrained as they were. He let them rub against each other lightly. It wasn’t too bad, really, but still not ideal given how far away he already was from the office.

A glance to the right revealed the existence of a yellow origami flower. Alex. Of course. Who else would take such joy in seeing him behind bars? Even for a second? Yep, no surprise there.

He risked a glance out the window to check where she was observing his ritual humiliation. If he couldn’t see her, then maybe the tinted windows would preserve his dignity; to a point, anyway.

Peter got it sorted out with a compliment and a concession. Neal stepped out, tucking his right heel around his left for a brief moment as he handed the picked cuffs back to the chief.

* * * * * *

Neal leaned on the windowsill as Peter revealed Alex’ presence in New York to the rest of his team. Once again, he could not do much to manage his need for the restroom, besides squeezing his bottom into the edge of the wall and providing additional pressure on the front with folded arms.

Agent Burke made the absurd assumption that Alex was planning a bigger heist of antiquities.

“What if she’s clean?” he pointed out in her defence. Diana vehemently disagreed, as expected. Well, that did not have much of an impact on Caffrey, who was just slightly preoccupied with keeping _himself_ clean.

Neal was counting down the seconds ‘till the meeting was finally over. And then he got the bad news. Jones was taking him. 

Therein lay the rub. Peter had been there at his arrest; he knew how uncomfortable handcuffs _probably_ and also most definitely were. Not to mention Neal never usually picked them so blatantly in front of law enforcement; he was not _that_ hostile...so, if he was walking with him to the elevator, he could easily indicate his discomfort discreetly without risk of delay. 

Jones, unfortunately, pressed the elevator button before he could as much as clear his throat. He couldn't _go_ now. That would be rude.

He breathed in sharply as his eyes fell to a sign, pointing him towards the restrooms in the lobby.

“So, are you _sure_ you haven’t seen Alex since Adler?” Jones felt obligated to ask.

“Positive,” Neal clipped, an undertone of tension in his voice.

* * *

Neal sat with his knees tightly locked together, hands glued to them as well. At first, his legs were slightly bent, but as that drew attention to what he was _holding_ in order to _hold_ , he let the muscles in his thighs tense as he straightened out his calves. Letting nature take its course...in a limited sense, of course.

The first thing he did when he entered the lobby of the Athenian, was not looking for Alex or staff heading up to her penthouse suite. Priority number 1, _pun somewhat intended_ , was finding a restroom. With the privacy of unsupervised time away from Clinton, he was doing his business ASAP. 

There were moments in his life, when Caffrey felt the universe was taunting him. Placed conveniently and conspicuously to the left of the reception desk, was a door, with _Restroom_ written in neat golden silvery lettering. But. It had a rectangular slit etched into the handle, designated for the input of a guest’s key card. Now, Neal was resourceful at the worst of times, even now. Perhaps especially...

He had a key card replicator in his inner right suit pocket, courtesy of Mozzie. But he had sworn to himself he would only use it to Peter’s advantage. An example of the long-established practice of grey areas. This was not one. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His hands were now folded in his lap, in such a way to let him subtly keep his thighs together manually.

Jones glanced at him. Neal was familiar with the expression of concern for him, so quickly began to fiddle with the radio, which was previously off.

“Hey, rule number 1; the _driver_ picks the music,” the agent chastised, switching stations and turning the volume down. Neal leaned back, drawing in another quick breath at the phrasing, reminding him of the _number 1_ item on his to-do list.

* * *

When they got back to the FBI building, someone had stolen Agent Jones’ parking spot. Trusting Neal to head back inside on his own, they parted ways. Neal impulsively ran into an open and empty elevator, before realising his mistake. He convinced himself it would be more enjoyable to relieve himself on the 21st floor, where he wouldn’t get in trouble for lingering, if it came to that.

His hands were in his crotch the whole way up. This was cutting it close. Very very _very_ close...

It separated briefly as he exited, but only for a second until he was hidden by the small hallway between him and his renal reprieve.

Mercifully, it was empty. Neal did not know whether it was simply too early for anyone’s bladders and/or bowels to need emptying, but his was full and thus occupying the majority of his brain capacity.

He ran into the first stall that caught his eye; right at the end, and thus further away than was perhaps wise, but _oh well._ He looked the door and worked on his belt, feet barely touching the ground as he strove to keep moving for his own sanitary benefit. As his finger grasped at the zipper- he felt heat. 

He tugged down the metal. “No no no...” he whimpered, observing the darkness spreading down both his legs. His eyes widened. _Time’s up._

His eyes closed to contain the tears rapidly filling them. His left arm covered them in defeat. His head tilted as a puddle formed on the pearly white tiles. He swallowed, dead set on not making any noise, just in case he got company.

Neal wiped his eyes and looked up, eyes still closed. There was nothing left to do beyond basking in the positive. The stream seemed endless, even though it did eventually cease.

He allowed himself one deep barely audible sigh, punctuating the endorphins that were flooding in, replacing the feeling of shame.

  
“Fuck a duck,” he remarked to himself. This was a mess. Literally. Evidence was _clear_ , albeit with a hint of yellow. It certainly wouldn’t be mistaken for water, that was for damn well sure...


	2. A Game of Cat and Rat

“Where’s Neal?” Peter asked, spotting the empty desk that usually housed the former con man.

“Oh, he just went to the bathroom,” Jones explained, returning to his paperwork.

Burke nodded, walking over to check what he was doing before his break. There was nothing there. As far as he could gather, the man had gone with Clinton to the hotel, and then back, heading straight to the restroom. Even the bust of Socrates was unmoved.

Now, it was true that the agent did not know how early this morning Caffrey had gone, before work. But, the heist was _several_ hours ago. Surely he would’ve taken the opportunity to take care of that sooner? If so, it was far too early for an encore performance.

His eyebrows drew together lightly. He decided to take a quick look at how Neal was doing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Peter entered the restroom finding every urinal unoccupied. And no sound was coming from the stalls.

“Neal?” he called out. No reply. He tried again. A few times. Nothing.

He went back to Jones.

“I can’t reach Caffrey! Either he’s not in the bathroom anymore, or he’s unconscious somehow,” he fretted, fearing the latter more than the former.

“Let’s go check the stalls,” Jones reasoned, knowing the locks could be picked if necessary.

They managed to open all stalls but one without a problem. Burke stood back, in case Neal was in a state he would not want his handler to witness.

Jones was about to pick the lock when his left foot made an unusual sound as it moved. He looked down. At the tip of the leather was something wet and yellow. Seeing as they weren’t in the kitchen, lemonade was not a candidate. The smell sealed his suspicion.

“Looks like someone _really_ need to work on their _aim_ ,” he commented, revealing the full scale of the mess to his superior.

  
“Accidents happen. Even at the FBI,” Burke shrugged it off, grabbing paper towels to clean it up, so the janitor wouldn’t have to. They were a team after all. The perpetrator could remain anonymous for eternity for all he cared. Mistakes are made; you learn from them and move on. That was his policy.

* * *

Neal counted himself lucky that he was going to have to change his entire ensemble to distract from his new trousers. The top half had gotten hella dusty from the crawl through the ventilation. That was another reason why he was leaving his criminal ways behind. Not getting strep throat every third heist.

He undressed with the haste of a soldier standing next to a drill sergeant. For obvious reasons, he had a bathrobe tucked in along with his towel in the locker. Sparing a quick second to make absolutely sure no one was entering while his dripping Devore bottoms were on display for all to see; he sprinted into the shower. He turned his back to the bitter memories.

\----------------------------------------------------------||---------------------------------------------------------

Finding Neal was easier said than done. Not only was it not certain that he was still in the building(though Burke remained optimistic that whatever the hell he was up to involved staying within the confines of the FBI offices), but the anklet was not telling the Marshals anything. Turning it back on as if he was leaving for the day, would be a waste if his hunch was correct. And it was highly probable that he would return soon enough, before any rosy assumption that could be made had to be dismissed.

Fetching Diana, they each decided to form teams and search the floors. 7 at a time. Jones took the middle bracket, guessing either files or food.

Both proved incorrect. But, when he reached the locker room, he heard a noise. Water dripping. In the off-chance it was a colleague, who therefore would be naked in a moment, Jones waited. And in the event Neal was hiding from the suit inside, he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to spook his pal, even if he _was_ fleeing from his designated floor for unknown reasons.

To his surprise, Neal eventually emerged, in a fresh suit of equal sophistication compared to all the others.

“Phew! You will not believe how stuffy that squad car was!” Caffrey intoned, shaking his arms, showing how refreshed he genuinely felt. Luckily, he had no qualms stretching the truth in front of Agent Jones. And that was all it was. The car _was_ stuffy. It just wasn’t the _actual_ reason behind his shower and swap of suit.

The Demi Suit reported the development through his mobile phone.

“Are you coming willingly or do I have to cuff you for the second time in your life?” he quipped, leaving no room for discussion on the subject of a return.

“Lead the way,” Neal grinned benevolently.


	3. A Full Confession

When Neal had suggested the anklet deal, he had interpreted the name ‘White Collar’ as being a department ripe with paperwork. Of course, to his increasing boredom, he was right. For the most part, anyway. At the present time, he and Peter were both chest deep in a swamp. They had been chasing an embezzler, who was laundering money out of a farmhouse nearby. He had taken off into the marsh and was now presently hiding somewhere among the gunk and grime. A movement out of the corner of Burke’s eye sent them swimming along like a barracuda. The man was apprehended, and the CI shook off the weeds like a golden retriever, complete with puppy dog eyes at the state of his suit. 

“This is a disgrace,” he moaned.

  
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Peter tutted. “We’ll just head back to the office, get you scrubbed and sparkly clean again,” 

“Yeah about that...I was thinking maybe we could skip that option. I’d rather treat this level of filth in familiar surroundings,” Neal suggested.

“Oh come on, you’ve been in the Bureau locker room before, remember?” Burke reminded him.

“Vividly,” Caffrey shook his head in disdain, erasing the experience from his head again.

“Then what’s the big problem?” he questioned.

Neal closed his eyes and sighed.

“I don’t have anything to change into,”

“Yeah, you do. Just put on the stuff you wore for the art heist last week. Fresh skin, no one’s gonna tell it’s not brand new,” Peter assured him.

“Except that’s not there anymore,” Neal admitted.

“What do you mean?” his handler was confused.

“I took it back to my place, and just forgot to put it back. I mean it’s not like I’m asked to dive through a swamp on a daily basis,” he emphasised.

“I don’t get it; what was wrong with it? It didn’t smell that bad, surely,” Burke reasoned.

Neal swallowed, fighting the urge to mention how it had reeked of his urine.

“Oh, believe me, the smell wasn’t the main problem,”

“Okay, I’m gonna need some more information here. Starting with what else besides the smell could be wrong with clothes that I specifically remember being spotless until you disappeared,” Peter requested.

“Why? What the hell does _that_ matter? The point is, I don’t have clothes at the office- we need to go to my apartment,” he insisted.

“No. Not until I get some answers. I don’t believe for a second that you could have spilt that much coffee on yourself without me noticing. And if you did, you’d have already stated it by now. So, start talking,”

Neal scoffed, looking away. The car was still stationary.

An inch of skin on the agent’s forehead crumpled in realisation.

“Okay, look. I know you’re not gonna tell me everything that’s going on in your life, but this just doesn’t make any sense to me. I thought you trusted me. What happened that’s so bad, _I_ can’t be told?” Peter stared at him.

Caffrey’s cheeks filled with blood.

“It’s a secret,” he stated quietly.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Burke promised easily.

“Promise?” Neal hesitated.

“Swear on El’s pot roast,” he verified.

“You’re sure you want to hear about this?”

“Positive. 110%. I’m more certain about this, than I am about you being a fundamentally good person,” Peter smiled.

Neal sighed, wiping his tears away with both hands. A third hand reached out, touching his shoulder.

“Just tell me the truth, Neal,” he said, leaning back patiently.

“The _whole truth_?”

“Nothing _but_ the truth,” Burke nodded, folding his arms in anticipation of a story.

“Alright,” Neal began. “I didn’t sneak off to the showers because the police car was dusty. It was because I’d peed my pants,”

Peter’s eyes widened, but nothing else showed the surprise.

“You’ll recall the heist started off really early. By the time Moronic Myrick booked me, _nature called_ . I was fine until we got to the office of course, and paid attention to you and Diana without a problem, too. But then, you had _Jones_ drive me to the hotel. I’d kinda figured I’d tag along with you- then I could just run to the can, and you wouldn’t have said anything at all. With him, it’s not that simple. As soon as he pressed the button to send an elevator up to our floor, I was a lame duck,” he gestured with his hands. 

This was when concern appeared on the agent’s face. A prominent frown, frequently visible when Caffrey was around. The _‘Worried About Neal’_ version of the patented Peter Burke frown. The most common subtype these days. Deeper than ever before, actually.

“When we _finally_ got to the Athenian, I scoured the lobby but the only bathroom was for guests, I didn’t dare break in,” 

“Why not?” Peter interjected suddenly.

“Because I promised myself I would only break the rules for your benefit. Like when I...borrowed that security tape before Fowler could use it against you,” he explained.

“Quite a leap you’ve taken since then,” the Suit noted.

Neal just shrugged, continuing his narration.

“I ran straight to the potty when I got back, picked a stall with minute precision. I’d just gotten my zipper down when I found it was no longer necessary,”

“That puddle we found when we went looking for you. In the last stall from the door,” Peter guessed, catching on.

“Yep, that was me,”

The Burke frown deepened.

“Hold on, why didn’t you use the bathroom in the lobby?” he questioned. 

“I didn’t know how long it would take, with how long I’d waited, how much was stored. I didn’t want you to look for me, and find me in the bathroom on the lowest floor. Like I said, I prefer _familiarity_ ,” Neal explained. “And in the end, it would’ve been more embarrassing to make a puddle in front of the urinals for anyone to see, and speculate about.”

“Guess you slipped away just in time before Jones found it,” Peter mentioned.

“What’d he say?...” Caffrey inquired warily.

“Not so fast. First, tell me how the hell you dodged our tail minutes after you went in there,” Burke wanted to know.

“There’s an air vent above the last few stalls. I just climbed over the toilet and picked the screws off the lid,”

“Your clothes really did get dust on them, didn’t they?” the agent noted.

“Sure did,” the con man chuckled. “Now, what did Jones say when he saw it?” Neal repeated.

“Something about whoever was responsible needing to work on their _aim_ ,” Peter stated.

This made Caffrey laugh loudly. “That is the understatement of the century,” he agreed with the judgement. “Not a drop made it in the right place,” 

“You know that’s not your fault, though, right?” his handler checked in a casual tone.

“Of course, I know what an _accident_ is,” Neal confirmed.

“At least it wasn’t the kind that lands you in the hospital,”

“You’re right about that. Could’ve been _much_ worse,” he acknowledged.

“But could’ve gone better too, I get that,” Peter comforted. “You know, I don’t get why he made such a big deal of it all. It’s just pee. Not hard to clean up if you spot it early enough,”

Neal sat up straight in shock. “Wait a second...are you telling me you _did that,_ for me?”

“Sure. It was no problem. To be fair, had I known it was you, I would’ve focused on finding you, making sure you were okay,” he assured his friend.

“I was,” Caffrey claimed. “Reasonably,” he amended.

“Glad to hear it,” Peter accepted this. Then he turned the car on, put on some music and drove to the mansion, without another word.

* * *

June insisted on having the agent over for tea until Neal was ready to go back to the office for the final few hours left of the workday.

“Don’t you Feds take into account this type of thing, with go bags or whatnot?” June suggested, when hearing of the reason behind her tenants’ early return. 

“Yeah, but Neal used his after the thing with Keller and forgot to replace the contents when he came back from Cape Verde. It really isn’t crucial within our department...usually, that is,” Peter lied smoothly.

Ms Ellington nodded in the special way she did when not believing a damn thing said, but at the same time knowing to drop a topic with _confidential_ elements.

“Figured as much,” she replied innocently.

The loud banging on the stairs revealed Neal at his new personal best. Hat straight on the head, tie tucked tightly into his jacket, arms loosely at his sides.

He sat back in the Taurus as if it was an ordinary day, not one where he had ended up covered in tadpoles.

“Now,” Peter broke the silence at the first red light. “I want to make something perfectly clear; Agent Jones does not bite,” he pronounced seriously.

“Didn’t think he did,” Neal deadpanned, not looking at Peter.

“Oh really? So, you risked a urinary tract infection because he cuffed you, close to 7 years ago now?” Burke dismissed this answer.

“ _No_. Your point?” Caffrey cut to the chase.

“My point is, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around Jones,” he implored.

“I’m not,” Neal insisted.

“Neal, there’s never a time where you _can’t_ go to the bathroom. It’s always allowed. Always. Your anklet is the _only_ way we control where you go and when. And, honestly, if you had to go that bad, I wouldn’t have gotten mad if I found out about your hotel key replicator or whatever you got. You’re allowed to break the rules for your benefit, if the reasons are severe enough. It’s what exigent circumstances are,”

“Don’t remember bodily functions being mentioned in the case law,” Neal rebutted.

“Call it a grey area. I don’t care. You don’t get to pull this level of ridiculousness again,” Peter urged. “Not on _my_ watch. If you gotta go you _gotta_ _go_ , okay? No excuses. You need help, _ask_. Not just me, also Jones and Diana. They’ll understand, I’ll give them hell if they don’t, alright? You can trust me on that,”

“Really?” his CI was sceptical.

“Really,” he affirmed.

“Well, that’s good, ‘cause I just realised I forgot to go after my shower,” Neal shifted.

“Of course you did,” Peter commented kindly, pulling out a police cherry and hitting a button on the dashboard. A siren wailed as he steered out of one lane and into one that cleared faster than a flock of pigeons.

“Take your time,” he advised, as his passenger got out in front of Starbucks.

They were outside his radius at this point, but it didn’t matter. As far as the Marshals knew he was already back on the 21st floor. Thankfully, he’d found a _closer_ restroom.

The End.


End file.
